Long Vagrant Poems
Long Vagrant Poems. Below are the most popular long Vagrant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vagrant poems by poem length and keyword.
Still Foreign
No matter
how much love
is present
My feelings
truant reign
The ghost
inside me
will not leave
Inducing
love’s disdain
All joy
a vagrant
along the tracks
where distance
holds me sway
And love
still foreign
wherein I roam
and where
— I’m doomed to stay
(The New Room: February, 2026)
Blowback
Judge
lest thee
be judged
Harm
lest thee
be harmed
Steal
lest thee
be robbed
Kill
lest thee
— be dead
(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)
Somewhere In The Queue
We’re all going
to die
Only the order
— stays undetermined
(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)
Above & Beyond
Fire cannot
burn
Nor water
drown
The truth
at its essence
Immortal
— resounds
(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)
Owning The Moment
Pain on the front side
healing out back
Earning each scar
that my memory attacks
Writing uncensored
no words in arrears
Owning the moment
— unburdened by fear
(The New Room: February, 2026)
The waves are restless in their testimony...
a Winslow Homer portrait of shifting shapes and size.
So utterly rhythmic and mighty in their ceremony
as they swallow the golden shore then form to rise.
The indigo-green waters emerge
into a song of pulsating rapture,
as the afternoon sun filtered through towering spires.
With each cascade of depth and shallow
I resolve to be beckoned and captured.
Break-away caps and peaks
tossed in mercurial motion-
flooding upon my thoughts that speak,
to purge my longings with hope and devotion.
I am transcribed within my aimless search,
a mariner in a rudderless raft of vagrant musings.
My compass has no north star to call its berth
to seek a place or find its shelter or mooring.
The sand shifts and pebbles roll
as to reinvent the changing tide of my emotions
with each movement of the shimmering foam.
Each grain of sand, each rock that exchanges places
atones my soul from its banishment in being alone.
Through this beauty the barriers of freedom open
as my exiled heart has found its home
the sea calls out to me
in the distance out my window
whimsical dreams of sailboats
launched onto waves that glisten
ah how the sea calls out to me
warm breezes stir hushed starry night
its briny perfume lingers in the haze
the stillness beckons in all its splendor
a silence hovers ever so gallantly
ah the sea so calls to me
the moon’s a lonely traveler
cast as a vagrant wanderer
for lovers to meet upon her gaze
it offers solace to shattered hearts
while late at night the sea calls out to me
AP: 3rd place 2022
Submitted on November 14, 2022 for contest BEAUTY OF NIGHT sponsored by SOTTO POET - RANKED 1ST
Walking the narrow paths
of this forest exuberantly shady and lively,
I'm ready to discover its concealed beauty;
I will pose, then resume my walk
and put on my blue sunglasses
that makes me look so sleek.
Mysterious warblings of birds
intrigue me and looking above,
I meet a green parrot wiggling
his long tail trying to translate
his language distinctly harmonious;
its stare is calm and inviting,
he only sees bird watchers
with binoculars who spend hours
to find the rarest ones in the forest,
making their discovery very thrilling...
many species dwell in this habitat.
Wild stallions trot down the main road
frightening the slender and grey squirrels
sipping water from a pond infested with leaping frogs,
some rascal must have set those horses loose;
their neighs remind one of a battle that began on a battlefield...
an Anser attempts to attack them, but he's only a goose.
Daytime is a rassemblement of images,
of musical sounds that humans can't imitate;
nighttime is a gathering of scary owls
that coo while invisible crickets stridulate,
and the usual vagrant starts serenading
a moon so dull, ungrateful, and waning:
I am observant and start trembling...
hearing noises thinking they are rattlesnakes.
My muse blew a fuse
Without excuse fealty did recuse
In jilting fashion without compassion
Tendered passion did stingily ration
Lofty discourse from pen did divorce
With no remorse absconded every resource
My inspiration turned to perspiration
Hopeless itinerant somewhat penitent
The bartered lexicon I did recon
A vagrant shill seeking to rill
The run-off spill pages to fill
A pilfered title would move engine from idle
An embezzled theme would ideas stream
A trite rhyme would be sublime
A pawned metaphor to open the door
A brokered simile; a borrowed metonymy
Would re-collect the literary dialect
Now shorn from mind so forlorn
—While Listening to the Radio—
The dial discovered, through the rain,
a vagrant, near-forgotten strain.
A cantor from another year
came quivering through the static here.
The chamber dimmed; the night drew near.
Thy laughter seemed to reappear.
A summer road… thy careless hair…
the lucid hush we two could share.
The cadence softened, wan and slow—
a timbre I once seemed to know.
It breathed the words thou told’st to me,
again, again, most tenderly.
Then through the hiss it rang out clear:
the past still knows my listening ear.
The anthem waned. The station died.
The rain resumed its lonesome tide.
Yet somewhere in the nocturne air
thy living voice is singing there.
Contest : Epiphany
Sponsored by : Constance La France
Date : August 28, 2026
"The insight of spiritual wisdom finds the portal of realization open
to the sanctum of profound consciousness” – Quote by Poet
In the opaque night of blinding agony
I take the ordained journey forlorn
across the extant landscape of desolation.
The escape route out of the maze of travail
in the deceptive time I lose
in the tortuous tangle of dismal torment.
My chase of shifting mirage in the desert of being
etches the fragile footprints to the illusive oasis.
The storm of despair over the dune of dwindled life
swirls as corrosive currents in the vagrant mind.
In the halcyon horizon of hope,
unfurled by the fleeting moments of epiphany,
I then perceive the furtive flashes of heavenly spectrum
illumine the infinite span of my inner insular sky.
I see the new sun rise with the sanguinity of salvation.
Travelling on the pathway of the devout life
on an inward emancipation journey
to the sacred sanctum of illuminated realization,
where the awakened awareness perceives
the sacrosanct meaning of existence
in the acuity of profound consciousness.
The soul shines with astral aura in the deep inner space
with the blazing brilliance of a thousand suns.
In my self-searching odyssey at the edge of eternity
I discern the internal galaxy turn me into a living light.
I liked its comforting and quiet
Enclosure from the time and rain
Designed to be impossible to sleep in
(Some vagrant friends reported miseries)
Shutting out the rest of the world
It became a space for answers
A sea-shell or confessional
Calming the small change of your soul
Adored no less by travellers
No doubt for its already ancient
Novelty it would not admit
The weak or infirm to its secrets
And such room inside limited
Admittance or forced proximity
Upon us if we shared a call.
Revered by Mum and Dad as
One familiar part of modern living
To me unvalued then missed
As a lost limb when it was gone.
LADIES AND GENTS, hear this that I may increase your leisure benefits!
All who have labored for cleanliness, for a spic and span to savor,
please allow me now to do you the most ginormous of favors …
Sweep, vacuum, scrub, dust, mop … have those acts ever pissed
you off? Cleaning is tough, especially rough because results don’t
last long enough. I see from your faces, you know what I mean -
allow me to paint a scene: Your kitchen floor has not one
speck, not a smudge or spot nub to detect, and it is, oh, so sweet
walking that floor in your bare feet - - -SUDDENLY A DUTY
is stuck to your foot, some wretched crumb of vagrant soot,
a speck intruder you would gladly, madly shoot!
Well, lean in close for I can transpose the major bummer of gross
into … REWARDING, FULFILLING, LONG-LASTING DOMESTIC
PROSE!!
This can, this light weight can and its sprayed, domestic changing
dose keeps rooms as pristine as when newly, fully cleaned, YES,
from den to latrine to hall, it guards clean in all, even door frames
and walls!! Just spray, walk away, and this anti-dirt, clean hold vaccine,
THIS spray, right here, in my hand will, I vow, grant you a whopping
wow; allow this month-long guard warrior to protect your clean, EVEN
toilet bowls will maintain their sheen, EVEN toothpaste spit in haste –
just forget it because this spray, available this day with many ways to
pay, won’t quit it!
Just $9 a can, NO $.99 that results in 99% of us feeling a brain insult.
And as early dusk usually finds me wandering,
In a secret garden to relish my own private feast
Leaving our hearth... distanced from togetherness
Would you still love me?
Vagrant these moods, carefree then insolent
That gentle arms hesitate starlit’s touch--
An anger or desolation keeps us cold, apart
Would you still love me?
Amidst times of ordeal as resources dwindle
I test such manly pride with bitter transgressions,
Unable to listen with comfort , hissing acidly. Somehow,
Would you still love me?
Gray the tresses like moon’s silver wisps,
My body drooped from toil of ardour’s pledge
I shall but ask, in the blink of faintest nights---
Would you still love me?
-------------
12/20/2018
Edward Ibeh’s Contest: Would You Still Love Me